Every year, you turn into a more incredible kid and, in these last six months, we have watched you mature into an even more confident, self-assured boy. You are really leaving behind your "little kid" ways and moving into your own identity as a "tween."
Even though you are maturing and becoming more independant, you still:
- Take my hand and want to walk hand-in-hand
- Can't sleep without your blankie
- Tell me I'm a good mommie at least once every day
- Say, "I love you Mom" at least 10 days times a day
- Want your parents to go to activities with you
I know those things are probably going to slip away more and more, but I am going to hold on to them and treasure them each and every time. (And continue to pray you will just stop growing for a second.)
You still surprise and delight people with your compassion and your ability accept people for who they are. We started a new church this year and you slid into that situation without a hitch, and in one ministry situation you showed your personality to a 99-year-old member of our congregation. You walked up to her, without hesitation, talked with her, and helped her blow out her candles. Not many 9-year-olds would do that.
You're a good (third parent) big brother to your Sissy. She worships you, I hope you know that. You are incredibly patient and giving to her, even when she isn't the most appreciative or the nicest to you. Thank you for that. Thank you for being someone Reid can count on.
You started a new sport this year - swimming - and joined the ConocoPhillips Splash Club. I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but you are not a natural born athlete. Mom and Dad did not bless you with athletic genes. But, that hasn't stopped you and it hasn't stopped from dreaming. This is the first sport you have done that you have aspired to moving up. Early into the training, you said you want to be on Gold Team - you are starting on bronze - and you have stuck to that. I have no doubt you will get there. It won't be easy, nothing worthwhile ever comes easy, but I see your determination and that will is your ticket. Hold on to it and swim!
In this your ninth year, we lost your Grandpa. But, you were loving, understanding and more worried about me than about yourself. I hope you know and will remember how much he loved you and how we said good-bye in a way that honored who he was and allowed you, his grandchildren, to have fun in the great outdoors, just where he was most at home.
Here's to another year of good-night tickles, food on your eyebrows, snotting Dad's pillow, leaving toys in the chair, and living, laughing, and holding on to every ounce of your childhood.
Happy 10th!
Mommie
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